Gens Necne Incorruptus Capio Caries
by MadScientist14159
Summary: Based on Harry's lies from 'Harry Potter and the Children of Change' by T. E. Tanglebrooke. Harry is trained by G.N.I.C.C., a secret organisation for taking down dark lords. They're like the order of the phoenix, only useful. Dumbledore was expecting a nice abused boy who would be easy to mould. Yeah. About that. Rated T for language and eventual violence.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell is Albus playing at?" growled Nick. "Perhaps he's under mind affecting curses. We should scan him at the next oppurtunity." Nick replied. Nicole shrugged her shoulders and started taking down the blood wards and removing the tracking charms placed on the various occupants of the house. She had, of course, made sure to replace them with charms that would send Dumbledore the same signals as the wards and trackers when nothing was out of the ordinary.

It had taken five years to track Potter down. Five. Everyone they had interrogated about the boys location had claimed ignorance. It had taken the grand Nick putting a compulsion virus on the british magical population to find out his address. Compulsion viruses were tricky things. You would put two different compulsions on your victim. The first, to make them perform some desired action, in this case find the nearest witch or wizard in a cowboy costume and tell them everything you know about Harry Potter, and the second to make them place the same two compulsions on everyone else they meet. After a few months, Nick had reported an A. Figg was Potter's neighbor and they had gone off to find him. Figg had told Nick a number of disturbing things about Potter's homelife. And about Albus Dumbledore.

All in all, Britain had been a mess. G.N.I.C.C. Had been spread very thin between Dark Lady Inferna in Canada and Dark Lord Kageshini in Japan at the time of Dark Lord Voldemort's uprising. They had decided that since Britain had the head of the ICW defending it that it could take care of itself for a while. Or at least untill Inferna had been dealt with. This had been a mistake. By the time they had liberated Canada, Voldemort had vanished. Not slain by Dumbledore, but vanished. Apparently done in by a baby. Said baby had also vanished. When they heard the official story, all twelve thousand six hundred and eighty nine Nicks and Nicoles said "Bullshit." in unison.

The average wizard had three hundred mana of magic in their core with a mana regen rate of one mana per second. Voldemort was estimated at about five hundred and fifty mana with four mana per second regen. An average one year old baby had a core size of slightly less than ten mana and a regen of one mana per two and a half hours. A killing curse required a minimum of eighty three mana to function. Like any spell however, there was no maximum to the amount of magic you could put into it. So Dumbledore was telling everyone that a baby with a core ten mana big reflected a spell that was, at bare minimum, eighty three mana, and probably a lot stronger? Bullshit. More likely one of the parents used a blood ritual and sacrificed their life to save the child. The Potters had enough illegal books in their library to know how to do it.

So Riddle lost his body. And then cirmcumstances around the Potter kid just got more and more suspicious. All of his guardians-to-be died or went insane or got imprisoned or got declared unfit to raise children except two muggles. Two bloody muggles. And from Figg's confession those muggles were criminally abusive at best. And Dumbledore knew. It made G.N.I.C.C. wonder if Albus was grooming the boy. Being taken away from the monsters when he finally found out about magic would put Potter firmly in his saviours pocket. Well, the grand Nick had declared, better that saviour wasn't the person who put him in hell to begin with. And that was why two Nicks and a Nicole were now about to rescue the boy and take him to HQ for training. Albus wanted the boy weak and malleable? Screw that.

He was getting a battle-hardened paranoid Nick.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well that's just bloody great." Healer Nick said. They were at the medical division of the main HQ in Ohio. After briefly explaining about magic, they had put the boy to sleep and begun to examine him. "what is it?" asked Nick. Healer Nick sighed. "His core is damaged from a partial spell deflection. In order to deflect an offensive spell it takes a protective enchantment with five times the magic of the curse it's trying to defend against. It's fairly safe to say that a parent sacrificed their life to save him so their entire core would have converted into a shield." Nick waved his hand in annoyance. He had been through the bloody academy. He knew this stuff. "Get to the point." he muttered. Healer Nick rolled his eyes. "Well they were above average. But their cores were both too small to work as a total protection. That would require four hundred and fifteen mana at least. James was four hundred and eight, Lily was four hundred and twelve. Neither had enough magic to properly protect him." Nick growled. "The bottom line?" Healer Nick gave him a sad look. "His core is shattered."

There was a silence. Slowly Nick said "So he's a squib?" The healer shook his head. "By all rights he should be. But no. His core has been divided into two parts. One at thirty mana, one at twenty eight mana. Add them together and you get higher than the average for his age. My conclusion is that both cores are growing. But what troubles me is why they did not dissipate once seperated. Or even fuse back together and implode, killing him." He gave the boy a wary look. "He's a horcrux." Nick gaped. "Another one? Of Riddle?" he breathed. The healer nodded. "Afraid so. It's in his scar. If we exorcised it now his core would implode. We can get it out without harming him, but it will take a long time and I think..." he glanced again at the sleeping boy, "I think he can use it to his advantage." Nick gave him an angry look. "Now wait! Hear me out!" the healer protested. "The horcrux is keeping his cores seperated but in his body. While seperated they both grow at the normal rate. That means when we finally fuse them back together he'll have roughly twice the core size he would have had otherwise. But that will only happen if we keep the horcrux there until they stop growing. Also, he's likely to learn skills Riddle was particularly good at more easily. Mind magic, transfiguration. Hell, he might even be a natural parselmouth now! You know how much of a bitch it is to learn the language consciously. Took me thirty years and I still can't get the third declension right." Nick drew his wand. "This is a security breach." he hissed, "That horcrux could report anything he sees or hears or thinks back to Riddle." Healer Nick nodded. "Yes. Yes, we will have to do something about that." He drew his own wand and aimed it at Harry's scar. "Obliviate. There. I wiped the horcruxes memory completely. It no longer has any idea who Riddle is. That will have to do for now." he looked back up at Nick. "What training has the grand Nick said he should recieve?" "Standard." Nick replied. Healers Nick raised an eyebrow. "I'll set aside a bed for him." He pulled up a notebook. "This is less pressing, but confirms what Figg said about child abuse." He handed Nick the notebook. Nick read it. "Holy shit." he murmered. "Left arm broken in six places. Twenty three fractures in his ribs. Fractured spine. Malnutrition. Fractured skull..." he snarled. "They were literally trying to kill him. A muggle kid would be dead by now." He threw the notebook down in disgust.

Once upon a time, Nick had loathed muggles. He had hated everything about them. It didn't help that his brother had a thing for muggle women, or so he suspected from the posters in his room. He had joined Riddle in the hopes of putting them back in their place. But Riddle hadn't been quite the leader he had portrayed himself as. Nick had quickly grown disillusioned with his master. Then later with his cause. He settled into a quiet apathy towards the muggles. Not the burning hatred he had once felt. Then Riddle went too far and tried to kill his house elf. That was the point at which he began to plot his betrayal. He stole what he had believed to be Riddles only horcrux and hid it in his family manor to destroy later, then faked his death and got some plastic surgery to look like a native american. He refused to join the order but instead worked against Riddle alone. After many months he encountered a Nicole in one of his missions and long story short, she recruited him. He thought he was over his hatred against muggles, but reading this medical report was enough to bring his old prejudices bubbling to the surface.

"Give me one good reason not to apparate into Surrey and eviscerate those bastards." he snarled. The healer considered. "Harry gets dibs." he said, finally. "Damn." Nick muttered, "I hadn't thought of that."

A/N: In the last chapter G.N.I.C.C. knew that Riddle had only lost his body. Nick being Regulus is how they knew. They're large, well informed and powerful, but neither omnipotent nor omniscient. They do however, deliberately act like it to confuse and scare their enemies. The Nicole was there on a recon mission. Nothing more. As I said, G.N.I.C.C. were spread thinly between two other wars at the time and at most they could have a handful of agents keeping an eye on the situation in Britain. G.N.I.C.C. HQ is in Ohio because T.E. Tanglebrooke is.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi everybody." "Hi Healer Nick." Nicole replied. She placed Harry down on his allocated bed. "What was it this time? Magical exhaustion again?" Harry shook his head and winced in pain. "Bludgeoning curse." he muttered. "You moved him onto combat training?" the healer demanded. "Well the old man did specify standard training and his tripping jinxes are up to scratch so we thought-" "You thought you'd put him through combat one-oh-one? He's been here five months! He's SIX!" the healer half shouted. Nicole nodded sheepishly. "Turns out he still needs some more dodging practice." she admitted. "You don't say..." he muttered darkly.

He cast diagnostics over Harry to check the damage and then healed his leg with a tap of his wand. Still glaring at Nicole he said "How are your potions, now? Where are you up to?" "Love potion antidotes, year one, section four." Harry responded. "You can brew them?" Harry considered. "With supervision. I still make mistakes with the macerated dove skull and Nick won't let me light or put out the fire." He pulled a face. "It's not fair. It's not any different from an oven and Aunt Petunia said cooking and cleaning and gardening are the only things I'll ever be half way decent at." Healer Nick gave him a sharp look. "What have I told you about that woman?" Harry sighed. "That she's a horrid old hag and I shouldn't believe a word she says." Healer Nick nodded. "And your charms?" Harry drew his wand, grapefruit and horntail heartstring, and said "Accio!" pointing it at a pencil on Healer Nicks desk. The pencil slid across the desk and rolled onto the floor. Harry beamed. "Well done." said Nicole.

Harry was dismissed from the medical wing, leaving the two adults behind. "When are you going to tell him that most six year olds can't even do lumos?" the healer asked. "He'll work it out." Nicole responded, "By the time we send him off to school, at least." Healer Nick sighed. "I don't like it. He shouldn't have to go to Hogwarts." "It's the best way to unravel Albus's plots." Nicole said, "But ultimately it must be his decision. We won't pull a Dumbledore and emotionally blackmail him. If he doesn't want to go, we won't try to persuade him." "He'll want to go, won't he?" "Probably."

A/N: short boring chapter (believe me, it was annoying to write), but Harry's still a kid with low self esteem. We need time to work that out of him and reshape him a competent Nick. Just a few more chapters of gnicc and then it's off to hogwarts! Watch out, Dumbles.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the day after Harry's eighth birthday. Nick had given him various books, Nick a new watch, Nick a collection of muggle CD's, Nicole a book on alchemy, and Nicole a large bar of chocolate. He had had to learn quickly to recognise people by face, since a persons name would only tell him their gender. What he had been most looking forward to however, was the start of combat training. He had convinced Nicole to let him try it two years ago and lasted thirty seconds before taking a curse to the leg. This time would be different.

He walked into training room twenty three. It would have resembled a muggle basketball court if not for the wooden meter high walls in parallel lines every ten feet. They had gaps in them at regular intervals so you could move further down the court. Harry knew that senior Nicks would split into teams of thirty and try to move to the opposing teams end without being taken down. Harry was not in such a team. He was on his own against native american Nick.

He got into position, crouching behind the first wall and casting a supersensory charm on himself to give him a wider field of vision. Nicoles voice rang out from a speaker. "THREE." Harry quickly ran through the combat spells he knew one last time. "TWO." He wasn't allowed to use anything instantly lethal. "ONE." Maiming it was."MOVE!" Harry ran and dashed through the first gap he saw. He didn't stand upright. He wasn't stupid. Nick would curse any movement above the walls. He made it through the second wall. So far so good. He kept running. A jet of purple light flew over him. "Damnit." he muttered, and bent his waist more to stay bellow the wall. He sprinted through another gap. He was over half way now. Which meant he was probably within a wall of Nick. "Hominem revealio." he muttered. A blue glow appeared to his left. He levelled his wand at it. "Confringo!" Shredded burning wood exploded at Nick. And bounced off his shield. Damn. "Diffindo." Nick said, and Harry ducked out of the way. He then shot three more curses at the boy nonverbally. Harry had to dodge all three. Harry caught his balance and cast "Incarcerous! Obscuro! Reducto!", a dangerous combination. Tie your enemy up, cover their eyes, make their head explode. It didn't work on Nick, of course. He merely cast another shield. "Expulso!" Harry cast at the ground between them. A shower of splintered wood covered his next attack, "Reducto! Confringo! Diffindo!" "Stupefy. Diffindo. Confundo." he heared and cast a shield before Nicks spells could strike him. The cutting and confusing curses slammed into his protego. He was too late for the stunner. It clipped his elbow as he tried to dodge. Damn.

His eyes snapped open. Nick was standing above him. Smiling. "Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all." He helped Harry to his feet. "You understand why you lost?" Harry thought. "You have more magic. You have better reflexes." Nick nodded. "Pretty much, although I would add that you gave away your position with that confringo and let it turn into a duel rather than an assassination. If you had silently snuck up behind me and cast your first spell at point blank you would have won." Harry nodded. He had been hoping to shock Nick with the wall exploding in his face but yelling the incantation allowed like that had given him time to cast a shield. He really needed to learn nonverbal casting. He put that on his to do list. Distractions and shock value wouldn't work when the enemy was expecting them. "Stealth charms?" Nick questioned. Harry rattled off the standard answer. "Silencio on clothing. Disillusionment. Notice-me-not. Obliteration on footsteps if I leave any." Nick nodded. "The spell you would use to take me out?" "Diffindo on your wand arm. Possibly stupefy if I was feeling pacifistic or running low on magic." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Okay, always diffindo then. I'm never either of those things." Nick chuckled.

Later that day, Harry sat in bed reading his alchemy book. Nicole had said he wouldn't be able to study it untill he understood basic chemistry and now he saw why. Alchemy was the art of tying enchantments into molecular bonds. The magic couldn't be broken unless the bond was so the substance was magical at the molecular level. Some enchantments required covalent bonds, some ionic, some metallic. Some required one of the atoms involved to be from a certain group or period, or even a specific element. 'Paladins skull', for instance could only be a chemical with an ionic bond between magnesium and a halogen, and was resistant to most concussive or piercing spells. The transmutation circle looked simple enough and he resolved to try it later. One interesting thing he found was that alchemical crystals could grow and keep their magic when exposed to certain magical reagents without having to repeat the transmutation on new parts, in contrast to a charmed crystal which would only be magical in the part that was the original crystal. He put the book down and tried to sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Slee- oh who was he kidding? He jumped out of bed and picked up his book then flung open the door and ran down to the laboratory wing.

"What the bloody-" Nick started as an explosion in the room below him woke him up.


	5. AN

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Yeah, sorry. Not a chapter. Just a rant. But a rant that has to be made.

So I got a review that said my chapters needed to be longer. This was after I gave you four chapters in three days. Yes, they were each less than a thousand words but still, what the heck?! This rather annoyed me and I spent part of yesterday sulking about it.

So here it is. Decision time.

Do you want longer chapters? If you want longer chapters be prepared for longer waits between them. I can't punch out three thousand words per day for you. Other stuff takes priority.

Longer chapters or fast updates like I have been doing?

Leave a review and tell me which.

Bear in mind, however, that it WILL get to the stage where I have to give slow updates. Like I said, other stuff takes priority. When that time comes expect weeks between chapters. I will try to make them long to compensate.

But right now, long or fast?

You can't have both.

* * *

Just a quick word on my other stories.

Heir of Prongs is not abandoned, I'm just running out of wacky stuff for Harry to do. Just writers block, that's all.

Perseus is pretty much abandoned for now. Writing rational characters is HARD. My respect for EY shoots through the roof whenever I try to write chapter 2. I might continue it eventually. For now, treat it as though it were abandoned.


	6. Chapter 5

STORY CHAPTER:

yeah, sorry. Not a rant. Just a chapter. But a chapter that has to be made.

* * *

A ten year old Harry sat on his bed.

He had a day off from training and was spending it redesigning his oclumency. There were a few ways your mindscape could protect you. By being difficult to navigate, by being (meta)physically dangerous, or by having animate guards. Harry however, was going with being utterly incomprehensible.

Around his nice organised area for memories, he had built an outer fortress of fractals, higher dimensional objects, and Disney nightmare sequences. Any invading legillimens would have to deal with corridors in the shape of the mandlebrot set, rooms which changed shape or randomly vanished for no good reason, and pink elephants on parade. He bound the whole thing together in non euclidean space with the mutilated corpses he had seen photos of in the gnicc archives. Trying to invade Harry's privacy would mind rape the attacker and leave them a blithering husk of their former, non traumatised, selves. He could still remember the suffering he had felt at the hands of Dursleys and secretly wished Dumbledore would have a go.

His feeling towards that man were certain. He wished him a long and gruesome death. Hopefully at Harry's hands. Albus "Let's abandon a child on the doorstep of a family I know is abusive on a cold November night without even a warming charm" Dumbledore was Harry's arch nemesis, even if he didn't know it yet. He was four more confirmed criminal acts away from being classified as a dark lord, and Harry had already got the Grand Nick to promise that if possible and convenient, Harry would get to end him when he finally earned his long overdue title.

He was going to Hogwarts. He had been to Surrey to get his letter, which Dumbledore had mailed to the Dursleys, another lot that Harry was hoping would get classified as dark lords so he could justify a messy and lethal revenge. Could muggles be dark lords? Vernon ran a company, so he had followers. They certainly attempted murder enough times. Harry would have to look into it.

He was going to diagon alley tomorrow. Madame Malkin sold special Hogwarts robes, whose colour on the inside changed to the colour of your house. It was a simple trick, designed to impress your average eleven year old. Harry wasn't your average eleven year old. He had been on four missions in his apprenticeship to Nick. He had seen death and destruction. He had taken a man's life. He wasn't about to be impressed by some colour-change charm sorting bullshit. Harry wished he could wear his gnicc uniform, a cowboy jacket and stetson. Stetsons are cool. Or even just his casual clothes, jeans and t-shirt. But _noooooooooo_. Hogwarts students wore plain black robes with their house colours inside and an insignia on the lapel. And Pointy Wizard Hats (tm). There was something weird about those hats. He was planning to transfigure his into a stetson as soon as he could get away with it.


	7. Chapter 6

"Hello. Hogwarts too?" inquired the pale blonde boy. "No." Harry snarked, "Durmstrang. That's why I'm clothes shopping in England, not Russia." The boy sneered. "You ought to watch your tone when speaking to your superiors. My name is-" "Draco Malfoy. Yes. I know." Draco adopted a satisfied smirk, as though to say "Who doesn't?". "Then you should know to mind your manners." The boy sniffed. "Where are your parents, by the way?" "Six feet under." Harry replied. "Excuse me?" Harry fought an urge to roll his eyes. "Dead." he explained. Draco's expression didn't change from his smirk but he said "Oh. Sorry." in a rather bored voice, "But they were our sort, weren't they?" Yep, the files G.N.I.C.C. had compiled on Harry's classmates had been quite thorough. So far, every detail of Draco's appearance and behaviour had matched his file exactly. Well, time to shake things up. "What, deatheaters? No. Sorry."

Draco stopped smirking. His eyes narrowed. "You'd better watch yourself." he said. Harry yawned, not intimidated in the slightest. "What gives you the right to make those accusations? What's your surname?" Harry took off his stetson. Draco eyed the scar and went pale. More pale than usual, at any rate. He stood there, not talking, just staring for a few seconds. "I see." he said finally. He had a wary but curious look in his eyes. Ah. The rumours that he was going to be the next dark lord. Of course. "Do you?" Harry asked. He didn't really have a point to it. He was just trying to get Draco to second guess himself. It was working. Draco was staring again, apparently thinking hard. "...Yes." he said slowly and carefully, evidently not sure at all what he was supposed to be seeing. Well, as interesting as it would be to let him think that Harry was a dark lord in training, Harry had a mission to accomplish. It was one of the main reasons he was attending hogwarts at all. Other than getting his revenge on Dumbledore, of course. Find those children who would probably grow up to be deatheaters or Dumbledore's pawns and subvert them. Steer them towards G.N.I.C.C. instead. Draco had over a decade of deatheater indoctrination. The easiest way to break through it would be by appearing powerful and mysterious and worth following but decidedly not dark. The Malfoys get another high ranking position in the entourage of a great wizard, Voldemort loses a potential follower. This would take time, however. And first, Harry had to establish his dominance.

"Well?" Harry asked. Draco paused. Inside, Harry was snickering at the awkardness of Draco's situation. On the outside, however, he was cold and expressionless. Unreadable. Unguessable. "How would you like to visit me at the manor before the end of the holidays?" Draco asked. 'Okay,' Harry thought,' credit where credit's due. That was a clever move.' By inviting Harry to stay at his house he had simultaneously assigned himself the role of non hostile diplomat, and given himself an oppurtunity to gauge Harry's feelings towards him. If Harry accepted it would tell Draco that Harry was open to an alliance, and probably not all that opposed to his fathers actions in the last war. And therefore a potential dark lord to follow. If Harry rejected the invitation it would tell Draco that Harry was hostile towards the deatheaters and their cause, making him a potential enemy. Harry didn't particularly want to visit the manor, as that would mean dealing with Lucius. He knew for a fact that Lucius was on an assassination list back at headquarters, and that meant that he was too entrenched in deatheater ideaologies to recruit or redeem. As soon as it was confirmed that he was rejoining his master he was to be taken out. Harry thought it was stupid that they weren't killing such people now, but it was protocol not to assassinate someone unless they posed a direct danger to innocents. For now, spreading fascist politics only counted as indirect danger. But anyway. Draco's invitation.

"Here's a better idea." Harry said, thinking that if he had to put up with Lucius it would have to be in neutral public territory where he would be forced to keep up appearances as a politician rather than spouting death eater propaganda all over the place, "Why don't you meet me later at the leaky cauldron for dinner? Say, half past five?" Draco noticably calmed. Some colour returned to his face. Some. He was still as pallid he usually was. "Alright. Shall I invite my parents?" Harry shrugged, resigned to Lucius's subtle probing. "If you like." Draco nodded and smiled. 'But we can't have you getting too confident now, can we?' Harry thought. "Draco." Harry said, taking a step forward and placing a hand on the boys shoulder, "I don't think I have to tell you how quickly things could spiral out of control for him if your father attempts to use this meeting to further his political games." He was almost nose to nose with Draco. His expression was cold and disdainful. "You understand, don't you? That it would be very unpleasant for all involved." Draco gulped. He took a step back and nodded. Good, he was receiving mixed signals and sufficiently nervous. "Of course, mister Potter. I'll make sure to tell him." Mister Potter. Not Harry. He had already started to see Harry as his superior. Or as someone to be treated formally, at any rate. Operation 'look cool and mysterious' had begun.


	8. Chapter 7

Harry passed through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. Dinner with the Malfoys had been amusing, to say the least. Harry had spent the entire time talking with Narcissa about his grandmother, Dorea Potter nee Black, who was Narcissa's aunt. It had stopped Lucius from engaging him in politics, annoyed Draco that Harry was ignoring him in favour of his mother, and best of all, seemed like a legitimate excuse not to discuss other topics. After all, what orphan doesn't want to know more about his family? So all the Malfoys had gleaned from their meal together was that Harry was interested in his grandmother. A fat lot of good that information was. "Gran! I've lost my toad again!" he heard a boy say. "Oh, Neville!" came the reply. Neville. That was the name of one of his classmates. Potential pawn of Dumbledore, if he can get his shit together. Parents barely sentient from cruciatus exposure. Personality was Hufflepuff with some Ravenclaw tendencies. No self esteem whatsoever. Probably not a threat of any great degree, but steal his alliegance if he shows signs of loyalty to the headbastard.

Harry kept walking. He could deal with Longbottom, if needed, later. A red haired family came out of the barrier behind him. The Weasleys. Confirmed pawns of Dumbledork. Mostly Slytherin personalities, but sorted into Gryffindor for Merlin knows what reason. Percy, prefect, ambitious. Very ambitious. Aiming for a career in politics, preferably as the minister. The twins, cunning. They'd have to be to pull off half the stuff on their file. Harry had to double check that some of things in there weren't put in by accident. Ronald, err... Perhaps this one was, in fact, a Gryffindor. He didn't seem especially bright or show long term goals of any kind. Ginnevra. ? Nope, he had seen nothing except "Avoid if you value your innocence, kid." on her file. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Harry didn't want to get caught up with them, so he hurried onto the train. He saw Draco in a compartment in the first carriage, but kept walking. He would have plenty of time to corrupt the boy later. A few carriages down he saw a compartment with only one person in and slid the door open. "Excuse me," he said to the girl, "Do you mind if I sit with you?" He had not chosen the compartment at random. He knew perfectly well who miss Granger was from her file. Muggleborn. Book lover. Ravenclaw/Slytherin/Hufflepuff personality. High intelligence. Sadly, the girl had convinced herself that she was a Gryffindor because Albus Dumbledore was. Ah, hero worship. How Harry was coming to hate it. Well, when he wasn't using it to get people to do what he wanted, of course. Hermione looked up from 'Hogwarts, a History'. "Alright. I'm Hermione. Who are you?" Harry sat down. He took off his stetson. Hermiones eyes widened. "You're Harry Potter!" Harry rolled his eyes. "No. I'm Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm perfectly aware of my name, and most of what you think comes with it." Hermione frowned at his sarcasm. "But you're in-" "Books?" Harry cut her off, "Written by the authors I sued last week for spreading misinformation about me?" Hermione blinked. "I... well..." Harry smirked. "I'll take that as a yes. You can safely assume anything you've read was made up. I didn't fight off a herd of dragons when I was six. I haven't been leading a happy life with loving foster parents. And I am most certainly not the reincarnation of Godric Gryffindor. Even the thought of ending up in his house makes me feel ill." Hermione scowled at this. A provokation against her chosen house? Blasphemy! "What do you mean, it makes you feel ill?" she blustered. Harry took a deep breath. "Well do you want to be known as a fool? Trust me. Gryffindor is nearly synonymous with stupid. If you go there you will lose job opurtunities because of it." "But Dumbledore was a gryffindor! What do you say about that?" Hermione raised her voice slightly. "Dumbledore was a student over a hundred years ago. The house didn't have quite the same connatations then. Although, if you ask me, anyone who abandons a newly orphaned baby just lying in the street on a November night without even a warming charm can't be the brightest bulb in the box." Hermione's face fell. "He did that? How do you know?" Harry held her gaze for slightly longer than necesarry before answering. "Because it was me." "Oh." she said in a small voice, "Then what house would you suggest instead?" Harry pretended to think. "Either Ravenclaw or Slytherin." "Slytherin?!" she gasped, "But Slytherin only has evil wizards in!" Harry facepalmed. "No." he said slowly, "It has future politicians and businessmen in. And they're only as evil as their muggle counterparts." Hermione thought for a moment. "So slightly evil?" she asked. Harry chuckled. "If you need more convincing, Merlin was a Slytherin. Though, history books tend to forget that. I'm just telling you you don't go making enemies there without good reasons." "And Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked. "House of Authors and Phillosophers. Magical Britain doesn't understand science yet, but if they did, the scientists would be in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws can generally get decent jobs in academic circles. Eighty seven percent of Hogwarts headmasters have been eagles, as well as ninety three percent of teachers. Really, you could do much worse. Gryffindor, for instance. If a company sees 'Gryffindor' on your CV, nine times out of ten they'll assume that you're a hooligan and won't even be polite in your rejection letter."

The door had opened just as Harry was finishing. Neville Longbottom was standing there, frowning in confusion. Ah. So he WAS being pressured to go to Gryffindor. Nick had apparently known the boys grandmother and penned that she might do so in the margin of page two of his file. The boy composed himself. "Err. Have any of you seen a toad?" he asked in a small, embarrassed voice. "No. Sorry. Have you tried asking the prefects for help?" Harry asked. "I... Didn't want to waste their time..." He mumbled. "Alright, then. We'll ask them for you. If nothing else, they'll do it for Harry." Hermione said. And that, was why, not ten minutes later, every prefect on the train was looking for a toad. It later turned up in Harry's stetson.


	9. Chapter 8

"Granger, Hermione." called McGonnagol. Hermione walked up to the hat muttering to herself. "Mental, that one. I'm tellin' ya." said Ronald to Neville. A few seconds passed. "RAVENCLAW!" Hermione skipped off to the Ravenclaw table to a round of applause. Harry nodded in approval at her, grateful that he had managed to get the Gryffindor idea out of her head. A few sortings later, Neville became a "HUFFLEPUFF!". Apparently, Harry's comment on the train had planted the seeds of doubt in his head about being a lion like his father. Hehe. Planted. Seeds. Well good for him, that he was making his own decisions now. And better for Harry, that he was away from most of Albus's pawns, making him easier to recruit. It came as no surprise to anyone when Draco became a Slytherin. Harry mentally tallied the students. No other M's. Or P's. So... "Potter, Harry." 3... 2... 1... The great hall exploded into whispers. 'Yeah. That wasn't expected in the least.' he thought, sarcastically. Harry strode confidently up to the stall, swept his stetson off his head, and sat down. He wondered if Dumbledore had ordered the hat to put him in a certain house. A certain red and gold house full of his followers. Proffessor McGonnagol lowered the hat onto his head.

"Let's see, mister Potter. What have we- HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" 'What the?' Harry thought, before realising. His occlumency. Oops? The sorting hat was crying and wailing and screaming "GETMEOFFHIMGETMEOFFHIMGETMEOFFHIM!" again and again. The deputy headmistress snatched the hat off his head. The whole hall was staring at him. Well, they had been staring at him before. But now they were staring at him in fear. "I c-c-can't do it, Minerva." sobbed the hat, "I-I can't, I can't sort anymore tonight. N-not untill I've had a g-g-good months rest to pull my head ba-ack tog-gether." The woman was speechless. Finally, she said "But what about the students? They need to be sorted!" The hat gave a moan of pain. "P-pot-tter's st-tet-tson can sort-t them! An-ny hat that-t can surv-vive being on his head is more than-n c-cap-pable!" Everyone looked at the stetson in Harry's hands. "Well, mister Stetson? What do you think?" asked the headmaster. "Oh. Umm, my stetson can't actually talk so..." "Then-n you sort-t them!" wailed the hat, "I c-confer the official t-title of dep-puty sorting hat up-pon you, and equip you with the sort-ting magic-c of Hogwart-ts!" Harry felt the air around him become dry, warm, and electrified. And suddenly he knew. He knew how to work a simple colour change charm on peoples robes. Wow. "Harry I must insist that you don't-" began the headmaster, but Harry cut him off. "If the hat says I can do it, I can do it. After all, he's been inside my head, right?" The hat in question was currently rocking back and forth, chanting a mantra of "Never again. Never again. Never again."

Dumbledore gave a pained expression. "I can't believe I'm doing this..." muttered McGonnagol, "Okay, mister Potter. What house do want to go to?" Harry smirked at certain members of staff, then said "Slytherin, please." his robes became green inside. Snape choked. McGonnagol choked. Dumbledore looked murderous. With effort, it seemed, he reformed his kindly grandfather persona. "But Harry, my boy. Don't you want to be in Gryffindor like your parents?" 'Dragging my parents up to use against me. WHY am I not surprised?' "Nope." he said, still smirking. Snape had begun smashing his head against his plate. "I... Very well. But know that James would be turning in his grave to know that his son was a Slytherin. Your mother would be equally disapointed." 'A Slytherin like dad's mother and mum's best friend for most of her school life? Yeah. Turning in their graves.' Harry thought, but instead, said "Well, next student!"

Dean Thomas walked nervously up to the podium. At Harry's gesture he sat on the stall. Just for fun, Harry dropped his stetson onto the boys head. "So." he said, "Which house do you want to go to?" The boy looked at Harry nervously for a moment. "Err. I dunno. Gryffindor, maybe?" Harry snapped his fingers and changed the colour of the inside of Dean's robes. "Gryffindor it is!" Dean blinked. Then he gave Harry back the hat and ran to the Gryffindor table. "Oh, you can't do it like that!" McGonnagol complained. Harry gave her a blank look. "Can't I? Why not?" "Because... Because..." she trailed off. "Next!" Harry called. It carried on like this, Harry giving the students whatever house they asked for, to proffessor McGonnagol's chagrin until they reached Ronald Weasley. Ronald plonked his bottom on the stool, snatched the stetson out of Harry's hands and said "I'll 'ave Gryffindor, mate." Harry's eyes narrowed. He had been disrespectful to his stetson. Nobody was disrespectful to his stetson. He would make Ronald pay for this. "Weasley... Weasley... Oh! I remember. So you want to be with your brothers, right?" Ronald nodded. "Yah." Harry grinned evilly. "What a show of loyalty to your family! And you know where loyal people go? Hufflepuff!" Ron's jaw dropped. He looked down, then started grasping his robes, the insides of which had turned yellow, in disbelief. "Bu-but... No! Gryffindor!" "Sorry. My decision is final." 'Next time, treat my stetson with the care and respect it deserves, bitch.' Ron had to be escorted to the badger table by a prefect. Even then, he was struggling, crying "I'm a Gryffindor, you idiots!". Finally, it was the turn of Blaise Zabini. "So, where to?" he asked the itallian. Blaise glanced at Ronald. "I don't suppose you're going to ignore me completely if I say Slytherin, and send me to Hufflepuff instead?" he asked. Harry took a step back and put a hand over his open mouth. "Mister Zabini, I'm wounded! To think that I would do such a thing!" McGonnagol let out a heavy sigh. "Right. Can you just sort me then? Slytherin, please." Harry stopped his acting. "'Kay. Huff-" seeing the boy cringe, he smirked. "Just kidding. Slytherin."


	10. Chapter 9

**SPOV**

Proffessor Snape was rather upset. Or at least, this was how Albus Dumbledore would explain it to inquiring students. Severus himself would explain it as "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek." He had been planning this for years. Finally Potter would be at his mercy. A different Potter, but still Potter. He had a special punishment system all worked out in his head. Ten points from Gryffindor for every wrong answer. Twenty points from Gryffindor for every failed potion. Three weeks detention for every prank the little shit would pull. Expulsion when he could persuade Albus. And then the brat had done something that derailled all his carefully laid plans. He had become a Slytherin.

Snape was nice to Slytherins.

Snape favoured Slytherins.

Snape was openly biased towards Slytherins.

Potter was a Slytherin.

In all his fantasies he had never once entertained the idea that Potter would be anything other than a Gryffindor. Half of his punishment list was about taking points from Gryffindor. What would he do now? Take points from Slytherin? He shuddered. No. Never. It was a matter of pride. But how else could he discipline the brat for minor offences? The board of governers would sack him if he started handing out detentions for getting questions wrong. No. He would have to be subtle. Encourage older students to bully him. Yes. That would work. He sat back in his chair, a smirk on his face. He knew first hand how being bullied felt, and it was no less than Potter deserved.

A knock came at his door. Speaking of Potter. "Enter." he said, imperiously. The door swung open. Potter was standing there, in the robes of a Slytherin. The sight was anathema to Snapes mental image of him, but he would not be deterred. This was their first confrontation. Potter had been told to wait in the common room until the oldest students had gone to bed then report to his office. This was to make sure he was tired. Tired people make mistakes and let things slip. The official reason for this interrogation was to find out what he had done to the hat. Albus had told him to ask the brat so that he could fix it. The unofficial reason was to assert his dominance and set the tone for Potter's stay at Hogwarts. Misery and fear.

"Take that ridiculous thing off your head, child." Snape sneered at the stutson or whatever Potter had called it. Potter tapped his hat with his wand and it vanished.

"You wanted to see me sir?" he asked in a curious and innocent voice. Snape gritted his teeth. He had wanted the brat to retaliate. Then he could escalate the argument and make Potter say or do something that he could pass off as worthy of detention.

"Sit." Harry sat.

"You have caused possibly irrepairable damage to a priceless and unique artifact. What do you have to say for yourself?" His question was said so that the listener would hear it as "How do you plead?", or possibly "What is your last request?" Harry however just assumed a confused expression.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir." Snape ground his teeth.

"You know exactly what I mean. You caused the sorting hat to go mad. How?" Obviously, the rumours were true and the boy was a dark wizard. Nothing else could have caused the hat such agony. Well, Snape didn't need any more competion. It was just a case of getting the brat to admit it. Then Albus would let him discipline Potter however he saw fit, to stamp it out of him. Ah, sweet vengeance.

"I'm not sure, sir. It looked into me, I looked into it. And then it just started screaming."

"Lies." That was... No way. Just no way. Potter could not be a legillimens. That took years of study. Years. Obviously the brat was lying. He extended a probe into the boys mind. It didn't return. He sent another one. It didn't return. Legillimency probes were supposed to go into the victims mind, retrieve information, and return to their caster. Snape didn't like that his probes were not returning to him.

"It's true, sir. I don't know what happened. It just started screaming when I looked into it's mind." Harry said this with a face completely lacking the fear any first year, no, any student should have felt when confronted about their lies.

"You are lying, Potter. You cannot read minds."

"I can. Would you like me to prove it?"

"Go on." Snape leaned forwards and locked eyes with the arrogant little shit in front of him. Only a small spark of doubt in his mind. A spark that was about to be extinguished, when the brat failed miserably. Even if he did have some natural talent for the mind arts, he would fail against Snapes occlumency. Mental shields that had fended off both Lord Voldemort, and Albus Dumbledore alike. And then he could give him detention. For a month. No. A year. Cleaning the cauldrons. Without magic. Harry looked deep into his head of house's eyes. He inhaled.

* * *

**HPOV**

Harry was not an idiot. He knew full well that what little legillency he knew could not penetrate Snape's mind. However, that did not mean he couldn't read Snape's mind. Tall, brunette, with glasses Nicole had taught him some tricks. Muggle tricks. Specifically the art of getting your victim to tell you about them, then having them remember it as you telling them. Cold reading, she had called it. First, you start with rainbow statements. Things that sound specific, but actually apply to most people. Then you ask questions, but phrase them as statements, carefully watching your victims body language for confirmation of your statement-questions. When you get things right, you follow that line of questioning. Continue until you have specific details that could never have been gleaned simply by asking them. Private things. Things they would be worried about anyone knowing. Once you get to this point they are thoroughly convinced of your psychic powers. Or legillimency prowess, as the case may be. Harry leaned forward to match his head of house.

"You feel that aren't given the respect you deserve. That your achievements are under appreciated. Sometimes you wish that others could understand you, but at times you are secretly glad that they don't as it allows you to feel unique. You have been particularly misunderstood by your peers. In your teenage years you were a lot more insecure than you are now."

He saw the man clench his jaw slightly. 'Press the attack!' he thought.

"You have had issues with your father. He was irrational at times. And, though you dislike admitting it to yourself, at times so were you." Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Your classmates just didn't get you sometimes. Sometimes it felt like you were surrounded by idiots. Even now, you feel like you're above average, intelligence wise. I will not judge this. I do not know what the average is. You had particular trouble with one boy."

Here Harry used actual knowledge of Snape in particular, and not just everyone in general. "No. Four boys. But one especially." Snape ground his teeth together. Harry kept speaking, carefully examining Snape's face for minute changes in expression and pressing where he got a reaction.

"You've made mistakes. Done things you're ashamed of. Things you wish you could erase. You've hurt people you liked. Passed up oppurtunities, that you would take in a heartbeat if you could only turn back the clock. You had trouble expressing yourself to her." This last part was a masterstroke. Her? It could mean anything from his crush to his mother, though either would provoke an emotional response. It was, however, the straw that broke the camels back.

Snape rose from his seat, looking like he had swallowed a lemon. He drew his wand in a blur and said "Obliviate!", jabbing it at Harry. Harry was an occlumens. Obliviate didn't affect those who had mastered occlumency. It was just a modified version of legillimens, that destroyed memories rather than projecting them into the casters mind.

Nonetheless, Harry adopted a glazed over expression for a few seconds then said "Sir? You wanted to see me?"

"Bed, Potter. It no longer matters."

"You're shaking, sir. Are you okay? Would you like me to fetch Madame Pomfrey?"

"Bed!" Snape snapped.

Harry went to bed. Smirking.


End file.
